


Guilt

by Dillian



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fate, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Penetration, Rape, Thor Knows What His Brother Wants, Thorki - Freeform, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillian/pseuds/Dillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2012 <i>Avengers</i> (Loki has always seemed a very young being in this movie):  This honestly started out to be a hurt/comfort fic, the simple story of how Thor finds his brother, given over to despair, and does his best to bring him back.  Thor isn't so good with the interpersonal relationships though.  And when ambiguity rears its head, his response is <i>force</i>.</p>
<p>What this is now, is a story about how a man may come in, desiring only to comfort, and leave, having raped instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurt and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor has always been his brother's protector. Now, in the extreme of Loki's suffering, he protects him again.

"I saved you," cried that woman  
"And you've bit me even, why?  
You know your bite is poisonous and now I'm going to die"  
"Oh shut up, silly woman," said the reptile with a grin   
"You knew damn well I was a snake before you took me in.”  
– Al Wilson

 

**_The Avengers_ , and _Thor_ , and all situations and characters thereof, belong strictly and solely to Marvel Comics. This is a fan-work, meant for enjoyment only, and not for any material profit.**

All the way home, Loki wore the gag and the manacles. All the way home his eyes glared hot anger at his brother. He might not be able to _say_ anything hateful right now, but he was thinking it well enough; by Odin's beard, he was thinking it. All the way home Thor remained impassive. In his brother's place... – But he would not have been in his brother's place, would he? Loki's anger is irrational, based on his pretensions to a throne that is not his.

Silence... Silence that felt like it lasted hours, though in reality, the trip took but minutes.

After their arrival, the trip through the city: Loki had fallen asleep by then. He sat on the hard, wooden seat of the tumbril with his head tilted to one side, his lashes like dark fans against his pale cheeks. _He is a murderer,_ Thor told himself. _He is a traitor to Asgard and to All-Father,_ but his brother looked – When he allowed himself to look at him. – like nothing except the child who had once grown up with him.

In silence, they returned to the palace. In silence too, the guards at the door hauled Loki from the tumbril. – He woke, Thor remembers: His eyes started open, deep-green and dilated with fear. The fear did not leave, when he saw where he was, but was driven away, and replaced by anger. – They brought him into Odin's throne room. He was to have walked, but when he would not, they dragged him there instead. They had to push him, Thor remembers, ere he would kneel before All-Father.

After that, the sentencing. Father had the gag removed from Loki's mouth, but he would say no word in his defense. And how could he? What words were there, that could make his offenses less terrible?

“You killed, Loki.” Father was furious, Thor remembers, when he judged his own faults after the trip to Jotunheimr. He was not so, when he judged Loki. Rather, was his anger banked, not less impressive, for the softness of his mien. “What is worse, you killed in the name of Asgard. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I punish you?”

“What can I say?” Had he shown remorse, most assuredly, Father would have shown mercy in return. Had there been a trace of regret in his voice, the slightest hint of shame upon his face. Had he even looked away, or cast his eyes downward... Instead, he stared upward, met Father's eyes fully, in his own eyes, a look of challenge. “You judged me and found me wanting long ago, old man. Here look, I have given you the opportunity you wanted, to dispose of a failure. You may now cast me aside and feel no guilt for it. You should be grateful.”

Father spoke no word in response, nor did his expression change. Instead more silence. Long, long moments of silence, that dragged out and seemed to have no end, Thor standing meanwhile, with his eyes on both of them. ...Thor meanwhile, gaping, silent, searching his mind but vainly for the word that would bring his mad brother and his father back together.

Weeks have gone by since then. How many weeks? He knoweth not. Many weeks ...Weeks enough that the image of his manacled brother standing in Father's presence and receiving the sentence of imprisonment has had time to fade, and be replaced by other, momentary, diversions. At first, it was to block his own sorrow only, that Thor sought his friends' company. Sif and the Warriors Three understood his pain, and all in their own way, sought to divert him. Volstagg took him to feast. Fandral invited him along on assignations that made him cringe in shame at the thought that the Lady Jane might possibly learn of them (and yet Thor went anyhow). Sif and Hogun invited him to hunt, and took him out to the practice-fields, there to sweat his pain away in combat training. Mother invited him to her chambers... But of all whom he loves, here in Asgard, it is his mother alone who gives Thor no surcease, for he could not look on her, without thinking of Loki, whom they both love so dearly.

Thus after many weeks, when Mother asks him to share tea with her, Thor refuses. His presence is urgently required at The Three Tuns, or at The White Hart (where Fandral swears the wenching is the best in all Asgard), or on the combat field, where one always finds Sif, this time of day. And he hies himself at once to his own chambers, there to change into whatever clothing will be required for the plan he chooses. It is to him there, that the messenger brings his mother's letter:

“Go see your brother,” it reads. “Go see him for I cannot. I have been, and the sight pained me more than I can say. I tried to do what was needed, but he would not accept it from me.”

 _Go see him..._ It is the first time Thor has thought of Loki in many weeks. _Go see him for he is in pain..._ \-- Did Mother say he was in pain? – _Go see him son: It will pain you as it did me, but it is from such pain as this, that our souls grow..._ There now, that is his conscience speaking, but it has the sound of his mother to it. And therefore, Thor goes.

_______________________________

Unbreakable glass walls Loki's cell from him. Inside, a table with a lamp, a flagon of wine, a stack of books. Inside, a bed...

...Inside, a body slumped on the bed, a body prone, scarce seeming to breathe. ...A body with tousled dark hair, with hair tumbled across his face, across the bed and half down his back... One arm is bent, half-covered too by his hair, the other has fallen, the fingers scraping the floor.

“One side varlets, I would see my brother.” He need not have spoken for, alerted by his face, the guards turn the key in the lock; they open the door and step aside so that he may enter. “I thank you my good men.” It is the conscience that Mother has trained into him, newly awakened by her recent counsel, that reasserts itself in the words.

“As you wish, My Lord.”

Thor pays them no more heed, but rushes to the bed to sit at his brother's side.

“Loki... Loki!”

No answer. He grips his brother by the shoulders and shakes him. Memories return, now that they are close again: They were just this far apart when he threw his brother aside, to keep him from destroying Jotunheimr. It was while they were this close that Loki stabbed him. ...They were this close, and then closer, when he took him prisoner, bruised and scarce conscious, after the Hulk's beating. These memories should bring fear, but how can he fear an unconscious foe?

For Loki is not conscious ...cannot be conscious... Loki lieth as though dead, and he moveth not, despite all Thor's importunities. Is this what Mother wished him to see?

“Guards... Guards!” Thor summons those for whom he had so little use before. 

They come with alacrity, as all should, when summoned by a son of All-Father. “The Lady Frigga was here,” they tell him. “She has been here many times since your brother was brought here.”

“And was he always like this?”

A shake of the head... – Of two heads, willingly giving what they can, be it assistance or merely information. “Good My Lord, nay. Your brother's decline has been steady since he arrived here, though, as must happen, when a prisoner refuses nourishment.”

“He hasn't eaten?”

“Nay My Lord, nor drank anything either.”

Thor swallows. “For how long?”

“Since he came here, My Lord. That is how many weeks?”

Seven. It is seven weeks. Credit the Odinforce that he is alive at all, after so much time. Thor touches his brother again, his hand gentle this time, on his unconscious shoulder. “What...” His mouth is dry as he speaks. “What did Mother do?”

“She reasoned with him, My Lord. When that did not work, she attempted to feed him.”

“Unsuccessfully?”

A nod. “It was after he fell unconscious two days ago, that she sent for you.”

Two days... Two days, and he has been doing what? “I did not know, brother.” Thor's voice is a croak. “I'd have come if I'd known.”

Father will not allow Loki out of the cell, and so Thor brings the food there. Soft food, light food, food suitable for the invalid Loki's madness has made him. Fresh milk, he brings, still warm from the cow, and this he offers Loki in spoonfuls, the first slid into his unconscious mouth, and helped down his throat with gentle massage. The second, also has to be helped down. By the third though, consciousness is returning.

Dark lashes flutter, then raise, to show Loki's green eyes. For a long moment, he stares at his brother in silence. Finally, he speaks: “Why...” – His voice is hoarse with unuse. – “Why would you, of all people, bring me back?”


	2. Dubious Consent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustrated on all sides, by a brother who seems not to want a relationship with him, Thor does what he has to do.

Loki's body is warm under his hands. Father has told him of his brother's parentage. By rights, he should feel _cold_ , should he not, as are his fellow Frost Giants? This is some of All-Father's magic; it is part of the disguise Loki has worn since he was in Asgard. And yet it is a familiar warmth; this is how his brother should feel, he thinks.

Thor lifts him. – Loki is light, impossibly light. He is a bird in his arms, much lighter than he was when Thor grabbed him on the helicarrier, in Midgard. – Gently, he lays him again on the bed, on his back this time, to allow better care.

“What have you done to yourself, brother?” Thor cannot keep roughness from his voice.

“Done?” There is anger in Loki's voice, weak anger, and the glare he gives his brother is weak as well. “I have not done what I would have liked to do. -- Why must you always be here, and hindering me?”

Hindering? But he would save his brother's life... Realization burns, as Thor understands: “You would... You would have killed yourself?”

A faint, weak laugh. A laugh of contempt. -- Once, Loki would laugh at his brother's clumsiness, but there was only friendliness in it, then. – “None can die, here in All-Father's city, not mortal, or god, or ...Jotunn. You knew that, did you not, Thunderer?”

Thor's lips are stiff. “Why then?” Impossible to keep his hands away from Loki, who was lost and now is found. Gentle-fingered, he brushes a stray lock from his face.

And at once, comes up his brother's hand to push his away. For a long while, Loki does not answer. He allows Thor to sit with him and, when Thor offers food again, he takes it. Finally, when Thor had thought the conversation at an end, he speaks. “For the... For oblivion, Thunderer.”

“Oblivion...” Thor echoes the word, feeling as stupid as his brother used to twit him with being.

“Is it so much to ask that a Frost Giant should find oblivion?” With visible effort, Loki sits. He looks at his brother, and his face is bitter, angry. “I went to the Norns once,” he says. “Long ago, I went to them, when I began to understand that Father's talk of having two sons destined to be Kings meant nothing.”

The Norns, the three ageless wise women, who dwell at the roots of Ygdrassil. They speak in riddles, their prophecies often not understood until long after they have happened. They could have said anything; it is Loki's interpretation that matters.

“They spoke of dark things.” Loki stands. -- He has to grip the back of his bed to support himself, but he stands. – “Of Laufeyson and Odinson at war, and of the destruction of Asgard.” 

“We make our own fate.” Thor crosses to him, puts his hands on Loki's waist. “Come, rest, brother.”

He feels Loki lean into his touch. – He can feel the resistance, the unwillingness of it, but he leaneth, withall. – Thor thinks about the moment when he saw his brother let go of Gugnir and fall. He remembers the hurtling sensation, as though he fell himself almost. The pain was terrible, when he had to tell Mother, but what was worse, was the ache of loss that went with him after that, that hasn't left him really, in all the time since then.

What did he lose? He lost a brother who was not his brother. ...He lost a satellite. – A “shadow”, in Loki's words, that confused him so, when he said them. Thor has thought about them since then. Is that really how he saw his brother? – ...He lost what he cannot bear to lose, the darkness that gives meaning to the light of all Asgard.

“I tried once, to destroy the Frost Giants.” Loki's resistance is but weak. He does not fight, when Thor helps him back into bed. “They, and all the creatures of Chaos, will be on my side in the final battle that destroys Asgard. -- Do you not wish you had allowed me to finish them while I had the chance, brother?”

Lawlessness. Senseless killing. “You went against Father's desire for a truce, Loki.”

“Odin is not...” The words come softly, weakly. “He is not ...always right.” Seemingly in spite of himself, Loki cuddles closer into Thor's touch. “Go away, Thunderer,” he murmurs. “You have undone weeks of work.”

He should leave, Thor thinks. He has done what he came here to do; he has seen his brother (who did not want to be seen), saved him from the fate he would have chosen for himself. He should ...go to Frigga, perhaps, and give her news of Loki's condition.

_But he has him back now._ Loki is here, willing – almost! – allowing himself to be held. Emotions crowd close, they confuse him with their intensity. His brother – Not his brother! – is in his arms. – Because he cannot get free! – He fighteth not, but allows Thor to hold him. And a dark impulse seizes him: What else will Loki allow?

Thor presses Loki close. He rains kisses on his head, the way their mother used to kiss them when she found them strayed away as children, and brought them safely home. He can feel his brother's weak resistance, but what of it? If Loki's words are true, they are destined to fight each other anyhow.

“I'm _glad_ I undid it,” he says. “It was unworthy work. You would have harmed something I love dearly... – Someone... – You.... -- You think I would allow you to destroy yourself, Loki?”

A choke of laughter, harsh-sounding. “You would rather I destroy you?”

“No!”

“...That we destroy...”

So much talk. Loki is too weak for all this talk, and yet he will not be quiet, but must waste what little strength he has. ...So much logic, all of it this nothing but dry, senseless logic. Loki cares nothing for feelings, but all for his foolish logic.

“Enough!” Thor pulls his brother tight, and this time the kiss he presses, is on his mouth. It shuts Loki up, if that it the purpose for it. It also startles unexpected emotions awake in Thor himself.

Vaguely, he feels Loki's struggles against him. Loki... Who? “You said we would fight, brother,” Thor pulls away just long enough to say. “Like this? Did you mean for us to fight like this?” His mouth finds Loki's again and, as his brother opens his mouth in answer, he thrusts his own tongue deep inside. Loki's tongue pushing against his only excites him. New feelings stir. He feels his brother's jaw clench; he would bite him if he could. Thor tightens his grip on Loki until he feels the tension relax, not just in his mouth, but all over his body. 

He leans back to take a breath. As soon as their mouths are apart, as if he has been waiting for the opportunity to whisper his poisons: “This is how you save me, Thunderer?” Loki croaks. “...How you prove the Norns wrong?”

Biting words. Ugly words. Thor looks at his brother on the bed. His skin is pale, skim-milk, bluish-pale. A Frost Giant's skin... His green eyes glow like jewels against the pallor; his red, swollen mouth is the only warm thing about him, and it is Thor who is responsible for that. Strange emotions make his own pulse uneven. He would save his brother. He would hold him, keep him... Loki is a bird, who will fly away if he is not stopped. He will go to Valhalla or, if he is not worthy of a place there, he will go to Hel... If anyone can die, here in All-Father's palace, he can.

Thor looks away. “Why do you hate me so, Loki?”

“I ...don't hate you.” The halting words are all the permission he needs, and Thor strains his brother close for another kiss.


	3. Shared Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's denials mean little. He has always been contrary. There in the cell with his brother, Thor does what he knows they both want done.

Loki's face is a blank, when Thor lets go of him. “What have you proven?” His tongue comes out, and barely touches his lips. – Lips swollen, Thor knows, from his own kisses. “Do you think me less a monster now...” He throws a quick glance at Thor. “...Or more a member of your own family?”

Thinking, proving: It's all a confusion. Why does Loki have to _talk_? Why does there always have to be an explanation? At the back of Thor's mind, an idea trembles: If he and Loki aren't brothers, is there not something else they can be? Is this the way, perhaps, to the connection they both seek? ...For his brother seeks it too, of that, he is very sure. He knows there is something between them, something strong and inescapable. The knowledge is there in the bitterness of his voice when he speaks; it flares in the angry light of his green eyes.

“I think you want this.”

Loki is already recovering from his self-imposed injuries. Even as Thor watches, the Odinforce breathes new energy into him, flares color into his pale cheeks. He looks at his brother, and his eyes are ironic. “I want nothing more than to be free from you, Thunderer, from you and all your accursed family. How long will it take you to figure that out?”

“No.” Now that he understands, Thor's mood lifts. “You are ever so, brother. Your first response to everything is to be negative. “Come...” He touches his cheek. “We are done with talking. Let me hold you.”

Loki's green eyes turn evil. “I am not your satellite any more.” He pulls away on the bed, but not much, not as if he fully means it. “Touch me and I will bring the entire palace on you in an instant.”

It is a vain threat; they both know it. Loki would have made a different one, if he meant it truly. Thor laughs. “You are a prisoner,” he says. “Who will come?”

He pulls Loki close. His hair is soft to the touch, his skin is tender... A woman's skin. Gently, Thor strokes him, touches him all over. The softness of him is a delight. It reminds Thor of holding his brother close in bed at night, when they were small. More than that though, it is a woman's softness he thinks about, of the women Fandral has introduced him to when they have gone wenching together.

He doesn't want it to be like that with Loki, though. This is not some nameless body, encountered in a dark bedroom, upstairs from the inn where he has been drinking. This is someone special, as if he had been able to bed Jane Foster while he was in Midgard, before the Bifrost was destroyed. Thoughtfully, Thor touches the hem of his brother's garment.

His brother's shirt and trousers are from his own wardrobe. The drab uniform of a prisoner at least, is an indignity that has been spared this son of Odin. The clothing is loose-fitting; it is such as a warrior wears underneath his armor in combat. Well does Thor know, from his own experience, how easily such garments can be removed.

“May I?” Loki makes no protest, and so Thor slides the shirt upward. First his brother's arms, then his head... He removes it gently, taking care not to cause pain.

Loki has always been thin, but now he is horribly thin. Thor could count his ribs, just looking at him. It saddens him, seeing his brother like this, but he knows that soon, if he ceases his self-destruction, the Odinforce will have restored him.

“Brother, you are stupid.” Loki's voice. His old, familiar criticisms. “Do you think I want this?”

Loki doesn't know what he wants, Thor thinks. He is swallowed in his own poisoned imaginings, as he has been... – For how long? -- ...Since long before he let go of Gugnir. He _thought_ he wanted the throne. Now he _thinks_ he would hide himself in oblivion. What will be next? “I think you want to be cared for,” he tells him. “Let me care for you, Loki.”

Tenderly, he presses kisses, all over his brother's bare skin. -- E'en with his lips, he can feel the thinness of him. – Only when he has been well-kissed, all over, doth Thor remove his trousers. Loki makes no complaint. Indeed, he leans into his brother's touch, and gives a soft sigh.

“This is what you want isn't it,” Thor murmurs as the trousers come away, and he drops them to the floor by the bed. “You want it, as I do.” His brother's demur is half-hearted.

Thor is very hard now. He can feel his manhood strain against his own trousers, irritated by the feel of the fabric. It is a good feeling, one that speaks of anticipation. He remembers it from the nights when he was wenching: He'd leave the trousers on sometimes, – Once, until the trull he was with asked what he was about. – just to prolong the feeling. Not this time though. This time he has his brother to think of.

“Get your knees up.” A woman's entrance is easily positioned, not so that of a man. Thor has heard how this is done, though. Fandral has told of his adventures with men as well as with women, and in plentiful detail.” Loki, however, is young. Mayhaps he is not aware what his brother is about. Thor pushes his legs upward, angling them until he can view the brown pucker of his brother's entrance. He holds his legs long enough for Loki to get the idea. “Now keep them there.”

His own hands, go to his brother's hips. “Thor, stay!” Loki's soft demur. “A man is not like a woman.”

Oh yes, he'd almost forgotten: Fandrall spoke of this as well. He laughs. “You think me very innocent, don't you, brother?” Thor lets go of Loki for a moment. Bringing his hands up, he spits, as Fandral has explained one should do. He rubs the moisture on himself, his manhood straining into this touch as well.

“You excite me.” He takes hold of Loki again. “I fear I will not last, unless we hurry.”

Soft skin, under his callused fingers... Loki is soft, so very soft.

“Stay...” Dimly through his own excitement, Thor hears his brother's voice. “I think you must prepare... – Wet me, brother, lest you...”

It is more hindrance than he wanted, but this is Loki. Thor fears that he may hurt his brother unless he takes care. Again he raises his hands. He hacks, tries to spit, but nothing comes. In truth, he is not altogether sorry; the thought of putting his finger into that hole, knowing what comes out of it in the privy, is not a pleasant one.

“I am sorry, I cannot, brother.” He seizes his hips again. “And we must act quickly now, for I can feel the moisture drying.” He looks down, finds where he must enter. Then he thrusts hard and fast, as he has done with the doxies at The White Hart. 

His brother's body does not open for him as theirs do though. Thor feels tightness, dryness... It is as much as he can do to enter even a little way.

“Brother,” Loki moans, “oh my brother, do not...”

It will not be like this forever. Once he is in, the sensation will change, and for both of them, “Let me.” Thor thrusts again. – Already he can feel Loki open for him, he is very sure of it. – “We will both enjoy this.”

Another thrust, and then a third... It takes five, ere he can call himself truly inside, and feel his movements ease, as his brother's body grows readier. Thor sighs, a noise of pleasure and relief. He would have this be good for both of them.

As for his own body though, there can be no question. Excitement thrums; it is all he can do not to give way entirely, just at the feel of it. Thor thrusts. His brother arches his back. Still Loki moans, but the noises are those of pleasure now, he is very sure of it.

Once more, and again. His brother's own hardness is pressed against Thor's belly. He can feel a growing moisture there. Oh, if they should both reach release at the same time! This last joy is denied him though, as Thor feels his body near, then cross the edge. He shoots his load... He can feel it going up, up, deep inside Loki's body, hard, and so much it must completely fill him. He pulls back, and sees Loki himself, still unsatisfied.

“Touch yourself,” he says. Then, when still Loki waits, he takes hold of his hands with his own, and puts them where he wants them.

“I... No.” Loki throws him a look.

He wants him to do it, Thor thinks. Well of surety, the pleasure his brother has given, deserveth some recompense. Thor moves Loki's hands so his own can get better purchase. He wraps one hand around the shaft of his brother's manhood, uses the other to find the sensitive place just below the tip, that he used to find so often on himself, when he was but a boy. A few teasing tickles, a coaxing stroke or two... It is a matter of moments, and Loki reaches his own release. His juice spurts upward, spattering Thor's hands, as well as his own belly.

“You are mine, brother.”

“No.” Loki scarce whispers the denial, belied by the tears in his eyes.

“Yes,” Thor tells him. He takes time before he leaves, to properly clean Loki, and to make sure he is tucked carefully back in bed. Then he returns to his mother's chambers, to tell Frigga of his brother's recovery.


End file.
